Draco Malfoy and the Visit From the Future
by Clementine Angst
Summary: Ending up with Pansy, eating green beans & seeing Hermione married to Ron wasn't what Draco had intended so he goes back into the past to try and convince his young arrogant self to admit his love for Hermione before he never gets to see her again ONESHOT


Draco Malfoy and the Visit from the Future

Description: Ending up with Pansy, eating green beans & seeing Hermione married to Ron wasn't what Draco had intended so he goes back into the past to try and convince his young arrogant self to admit his love for Hermione before he never gets to see her again ONESHOT

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters in the book, or anything else related to the book.

A/N: Oneshot. Xo

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Draco Malfoy stood with his back scraping up against the stone wall. Anxiously he waited for Hermione. Much to his displeasure, they were Head Boy and Head Girl. The rest of the students had expected fights, arguments and terrible verbal battles that landed them both in detentions, but it was in the months that had passed that he realized she was not the horrible, filthy person he once pictured. Their time together was often spent in silence, no insults were necessary anymore. Slowly their silence became a bond of sorts—a tolerance of indifference. She no longer thought of him as a low, ferret and he no longer regarded her as a mudblood. Sharing a living space and titles of authority had definitely brought them closer and would have helped set an example of inter house unity had they shared their alliance with the outside world. It had remained a game between them, the subtle looks of sincerity that passed between them when Gryffindors and Slytherins had gotten in fights and the knowledge that neither wanted to remain part of the rivalry.

It was almost time for patrol. Twenty or so more minutes. Why he had arrived so early was beyond him. But the slight hope that she would arrive early and they could spend a few minutes alone pushed him out of the Slytherin common room and out into the empty corridor in which he currently stood. The portrait of the mermaid in the lake had always been their meeting spot for patrolling even though they both stayed in the same common room. It seemed as though meeting at a place close to where they were to be patrolling seemed more reasonable than walking there together.

He silently recalled all the times he and her had busted excited couples finally encountering an empty closet. They would joke around with the people, telling them the closet was reserved; that they had to go find a new one. Though Hermione was one for enforcing the rules, the war had changed her: she let people have fun, she let people do things as long as they were on someone else's time where someone else was patrolling. She would kindly tell the couples where Ron—that little bugger—was patrolling, knowing he wouldn't bust them at all. She had also made Draco swear never to tell any authority that she was slacking on her responsibilities. He just smirked in return, gladly making her feel uneasy. But what Draco noticed every time they found a flushed, out of breath couple was a look of bitter, disappointment in her eyes. Perhaps it was the fact love was truly lacking from her life. The first time he witnessed this emotion, he ceased in teasing her about her romantic relationships and returned to his old favorite—mudblood.

But tonight was the night before graduation—meaning this was the last time he would ever have to voluntarily be in her presence. Part of him rejoiced; a rapidly ignored part of him felt disappointed. While tapping his foot to an inaudible rhythm and twisting his fingers in a knot, Draco was suddenly startled by a loud crack. Turning to his right, he came face to face with a tall, attractive man with platinum blonde hair and silvery eyes.

"Hello," the man nodded hastily, "I have no time for questions. Who am I? you ask. Well I am you; you from the future. With an abundance of spells and potions I figure out a way to grant myself some time here. Why at this point in my life? Well, you see, this is the last time I see Hermione—"

"Did you just call her Hermione?" the younger Draco asked, scowling in disgust. The thought of himself calling Granger by her first name made him distrust this man—his supposed self from the future.

"Don't make that face, it doesn't become you. And, yes. I did. It just so happens that the five years after this graduation have been absolute hell for me. I can barely eat, sleep and think. My job is slipping away, my life is slipping away. And all because of what is about to occur."

"What's about to occur?"

"Be patient!" the older man snapped, shaking his head in disbelief. "Right now you think you only like Hermione because of hormones and a silent agreement between the two of you to be civil, but months from now you'll be in absolute pain—never seeing her again ruins you. Everything you believed in—the pureblood mania—is demolished by your sudden lust for her. But she marries fucking Weasel and then they have a child, with red hair."

"Ugh, that is disgusting. He is not good enough for her." Draco drawled, cocking his head to the side to examine the man before him. His hair was rumbled. He was dressed in a pair of jeans and a button up shirt, which remained un-tucked. Before Draco could ask why he was barefoot, he continued.

"Right now, you cannot fathom the longing I feel. The loneliness that has overwhelmed my life. There is a reason why every morning that you woke up in the head's common room you felt overjoyed, accepted and at home. The reason, contrary to the belief of your current mind, was her. She was everything that made you feel at home. Dad's dead now, right?"

Younger Draco nodded in affirmation. He then pulled a face of distaste—reminiscing on the hatred the flooded his veins with the very mention of his relatives. "The war already happened, too."

"Ah, yes. Well, Mum dies soon enough. You're left with barely any relatives and forced to go into hiding because there is a bunch of people that want your head—even though you fought on the good side during the war. Eventually you come out of hiding; it was a matter of months. Those months were horrible. You get a job at the ministry; you quit because Hermione works in the department next to you and seeing her with Weasel gets you so frustrated. Eventually you play for a quidditch team, that's when the trouble starts. It's been a year and a half since the war; all the casualties are adding up and the wizarding population of England decreases by seventy percent. So they pass a law."

"A law? And _you _actually follow it?"

"Well, the Malfoy name doesn't exactly get you special privileges anymore."

"What's the law?" Draco questioned, in a husky whisper.

"A marriage law. It requires everyone between the ages of seventeen and thirty five to be married in a selected time frame. If you do not comply, you are given a choice of potential mates or your magic is removed, your memory destroyed and you are sent to live with muggles."

The younger Draco snorted and then laughed, "And what do I do?"

"You don't find anyone—except Pansy."

"No!" he shouted before letting out a disgruntled cry, "This must be a lie."

"You wish, you can only wish. You then have to have a child in a certain time frame—the first five years of your marriage. Don't worry, she isn't even pregnant yet. If this works, I'll never have to be with her again."

"If what works?"

"This!" the older Draco spat, "Coming back, saving our love for Hermione."

At the sound of her name, the young Draco's spine tingled slightly as the image of her entered his mind. "But I don't love her!"

"Think, remember that time after the quidditch game?" the older boy asked testily, recalling a vibrant memory from their past.

_**FLASHBACK**_

_Everyone had deserted the quidditch pitch, the stands were empty. Gryffindor had defeated Slytherin by an abundance of points. Potter had seized the win, much to Draco's dismay. He sat in the center of the field, looking at the sky above him. It was quickly becoming dark. Far off in the distance a bunch of voices could be heard as they mingled together—remaining undistinguishable. But out of the mesh of sound he recognized her voice as she shouted, "I'll be back to celebrate in a bit. I've just got to check on something."_

_A slur of goodbyes chanted in her departure. Before he could register what was happening, she sat down beside him, not even bothering to ask for his permission. "Even though Slytherins are annoying, I was rooting for you."_

"_Really? And why is that?"_

"_Well, for one, even though Harry is rather humble, the battle has given his ego quite the upper. I think a loss would do him well. Two, I saw how excited you were this morning. You practically ran out of the common room. And three,"_

"_There's a three?"_

"_Yes, there is," she chuckled, "I know it would make you happy. I know you deserve some recognition."_

"_I don't need your pity, Granger."_

"_It isn't pity, Malfoy. I just want to see you getting what you deserve."_

"_I deserve nothing. I'm evil; just like my father."_

"_No," she snapped, finally turning to him. "You are nothing like your father. That's why I wanted you to win, so everyone could see how amazing you truly are."_

"So what?" the younger Draco snapped feverishly. "She thinks I'm amazing; it is the truth."

The older man just sighed with exhaustion, recalling how utterly full of himself he once was. And before his younger self could contribute anymore to the small lists of why they couldn't possible love Hermione, he came up with another incident, "How about the time in potions?"

"I highly doubt that will convince me of my love for her…"

"Just give it a try. Remember?"

_**FLASHBACK**_

_They were unfortunately assigned to be partners because of the lack of students at Hogwarts. Due to their own death, death of family members or the fear of insecurity, less than half of the school remained. Snape held no mercy when he paired them together; both of them resigned to staring daggers into his back the whole class._

_Draco was about to put a flower petal into the potion when Hermione stopped him, "Don't! They have to go in together; all at once."_

"_I think one at a time."_

"_No." she persisted._

"_Why?"_

"_It clearly says in the—"_

"_Who cares what it says in the procedure? Live a little. They're going in one by one."_

"_Malfoy! Don't even try it," she begged as his hand inched closer and closer to the cauldron. Just as he was about to drop a solitary pedal in, her palm flew beneath his and caught it. She cradled the pedal in her hand for a moment before turning to him and whispering, "You could have cost us our grade."_

"_This isn't even counting for a grade; it's practically the end of the year. Snape even said that is isn't counting. Go ahead and ask him."_

"_I will do no such thing. Hand me the pedals." She commanded while extending the palm that contained the one, lonely pedal. But instead of placing all of the pedals in her hand, he removed the single on from her palm and dropped it in the potion. There was a loud, "BOOM!" and then a puff of smoke. Coughing like crazy, the two were removed from the room and sent to the hospital wing—but not after receiving a detention._

_After they were let out of the hospital wing and cleared of all illness, they went to serve their detention—in the library. They were instructed to rearrange a musty, old shelf located in the furthest corner of the library. Hermione was rather excited while Draco just sulked about. There was no supervision, though, allowing Draco the opportunity to insult Hermione._

"_Work, mudblood, work!" he laughed as she began moving the books around. She just ignored him. The silence was fine for a while, but it began to get on his nerves. She was crouched down, adjusting the books in the bottom, left corner of the row. He sat down next to her and began to taunt her._

"_It's so dirty in here, that must be why you enjoy it so much."_

"_You're a born worker, you know? You'd be a good slave at my house—get along well with the house elves."_

"_You're filth."_

"_Weasel-lover!"_

"_Bushy haired, buck-toothed know-it-all."_

"_Scum! You don't even deserve to be at Hogwarts!"_

"_Mudblood." He was beginning to run out of insults so attempted a different approach. "Why aren't you speaking to me?"_

"_Because you're an arse!" she whispered harshly, whipping her head around to face him. She yelped slightly as his nose collided with hers. She, nor he, had realized how close they were. When it came time for her to turn around and tell him off, she nearly closed the proximity between them. Instead of backing away and looking like a coward she stared him right in the eye, practically begging him for competition. He complied and stared right back, her fresh breath coating his upper lip. _

"_Excuse me!" Snape snarled, coming into the aisle, "I do believe you two are supposed to be serving a detention."_

_The two then silently backed away from each other and headed back to work; both attempting to ignore each other for the remainder of their detention._

"Alright, I admit it. We did almost kiss."

"Perhaps if Snape hadn't come we would have," the older Draco sighed, running a tired hand through his untamed locks. If only it had started then, if only.

"But it doesn't prove anything. So what? I've kissed tons of girls."

"But you didn't kiss her. That's the thing. Since when has a girl ever resisted you?"

"Never," the younger Draco mused aloud, arching his eyebrows slightly.

"Remember—"

"No more remembering!"

"One more time," he hissed aggressively. He came all this way and would not let the stubborn, egotistical teenager he once was ruin his life.

"Fine," he retorted, glancing at his older self, "Which time?"

"When Father died."

_**FLASHBACK**_

_The common room was empty, all except a studying Hermione. She was sitting on the couch, a book draped over her lap. Draco hadn't come out of his room for at least two days. For some odd reason, it had begun to worry her. So today she decided she would bring him something to eat. It was sitting on the coffee table right across from the couch. In the pit of her stomach she had a feeling; a feeling he would come out today._

_The door facing her back opened and then shut. She did not turn around, only spoke into the air, "The food is for you; I brought it up just in case you got hungry."_

_She heard his feet shuffle around and then a silence. Before she could turn to face him, he was sitting on the couch across from hers. He leaned his back against the pillow, propped his feet up against the arm of the chair and sprawled out across the hole couch. It was not until he was comfortable that he grabbed the plate and began to eat. She did not comment on his sudden hunger, nor did she question his absence from classes._

_All the sound that occupied the room, save for their breathing, was the clinking of his fork and the crackling of her pages. When he finished the meal and placed the plate off to the side, she glanced up at him—not expecting him to thank her._

_He finally spoke, in what one might consider a compassionate tone, "My father died."_

_It was blunt, frank and harsh. It wasn't exactly a thank you, but what more could she expect from him? She didn't want to say anything out of place but felt she had to say something, "Well, Malfoy, some people might believe he deserved it. Some people may grieve and some people may weep. But it is their business, not mine. However you feel, you should still eat."_

_He just nodded and stood up, looking once more at her, "Oh, and for the record, Granger, I don't like green beans."_

_She laughed before letting a silly smile escape her lips, "Me either."_

"Oh, wow!" the younger boy exclaimed sarcastically, "Neither of us like green beans!"

"Pansy loves them." He coughed, shaking his head in disgust. Boy, he had made a mistake—he was doomed to eat green beans for the rest of his life if this didn't work out. Hopefully his younger self would agree.

"Enough said." He laughed. "So you want me to do something?"

"Yes," he stated, glancing up and down the hallway to see if they were being watched. When he was satisfied with the silence he continued, "When she turns that corner and approaches you, I want you to run up to her, embrace her, kiss her full on the mouth and ask her to marry you."

The younger Draco shuttered with disbelief. "Don't you think that'll just turn her off? Perhaps I'll just talk to her."

"No. You have to do more than talk. You have to do what I say. I never told her anything; I just let her walk away with him."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to ask her to marry me."

"Perhaps that was a bit extreme. Just kiss her; kiss her and tell her you love her." He sighed before glancing at his watch. "My time is up. Please, do it. You'll appreciate it all later. But as for me, well if you don't succeed, I've got a date with my wife—to eat green beans, of course. Every fucking night." He clenched his jaw tightly, "It's now or never. Get her now or you'll never have the chance."

Before Draco could ask his older self another, very important question—such as whether or not he was rich in the future—the man disappeared and a pair of footsteps rounded the corner. Sure enough, Hermione was headed his way with a genuine smile upon her face. She approached him cautiously, watching his face with amusement.

He took in every sway of her hips and every step she stole. He absorbed the faces she made when she noticed he was staring, how she subconsciously fiddled with the hem of her skirt and how she looked at the floor when she caught his gaze. She was coming closer and closer and his blood was swashing back and forth. He was nervous that he would end up alone or with Pansy. He was nervous that Hermione would have a child with red hair. But the sight of her made him stagger backwards slightly. He felt a pull of emotions—tearing up his insides. The thought of never properly seeing her again, of only witnessing her from a distance, of a redheaded, dirt poor fool stealing her from him wrecked his insides. He was deep in thought, about her, when she smiled and tapped his shoulder to grab his attention.

"Ready for our last patrol together?" she asked. He nodded solemnly as they turned into an empty corridor.

"Not quite," he started but fell silent. The overwhelming contents of his last ten minutes were pressuring him so much. There was a long silence that dragged out for a while. Their steps echoed and their breaths were merely thoughts. It was a while before either had the urge to speak again. "You don't like green beans."

"What?" she smiled, wondering how on Earth he had remembered. He grabbed her shoulders and spun her body so it was facing him. They stood, stationary, in the hallway. Her stomach swayed back and forth. It rocked and plummeted with his touch. As much as she knew loving these sensations was wrong, she let her body soak them in; soak him in.

His voice was rushed and he was speaking in a low, hoarse tone, "You wanted my team to win, you brought me food, you like books, you were right about the flower pedals, you aren't a dirty mudblood, you aren't filthy and you are not a Weasel-lover—"

"Actually, I am dating Ron." She laughed, in spite of herself. She saw a surprising surge of sadness flicker through his eyes. It caught her off guard, but made her feel absolutely warm. Predictions of what he might say next flooded her mind. With all her might she hoped it wouldn't be an insult. With all her heart she hoped he would say something wonderful—to return the feelings she reluctantly ignored.

"No," he snapped, looking down into her eyes, "You can't. You can't date him, you cannot marry him. You cannot have a kid with red hair because of a law with him. You cannot make me quit my job at the ministry."

"You're talking nonsense, Malfoy."

"Hermione," he cooed into her ear, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her into an embrace.

"You called me by my first name." she stuttered and smiled, thinking only of how wonderful it felt for him to say it. It seemed to roll so dramatically and unnaturally off his tongue at first, but he whispered it a second time and then a third—causing her to accept it with excitement.

"I know." He slurred, caressing the small of her back with his thumb. "Hermione."

"What's going on? Is this some sort of joke?" she asked, trying to keep the tingles in the pit of her stomach at bay. He ignored her confusion and countered it with the beginning of an explanation.

"I can't have this be—"

"Hermione?" there was a shout from the opposite end of the corridor; Ron came into view, his wand being his source of light. "What are you doing hugging Malfoy?"

"Err—nothing." She stammered, backing away from Draco's hold on her. His face grew annoyed and agitated. He could not let this redheaded fool damage his future, not again.

"Well, then. Let's get going, Hermione." Ron smiled, taking her hand in his. When she began to protest and rant about her responsibilities, he put a finger to her lips and shushed her, "It's alright, babe, I think patrolling isn't needed the night before the graduation. People are busy doing other things. _We could be busy doing other things._"

She laughed quietly as a blush crept up her cheeks. But Ron chose to ignore it and began to drag her away from the disappointed figure of Malfoy.

"Bye," she said quietly, just audible for him. He watched them leave, Ron's hand worming around her waist. Their two bodies became smaller and smaller until they were almost invisible. But a sudden feeling washed over Malfoy. He couldn't let "bye" be the last thing she said to him. The words of his future self washed over him like a tidal wave:

_When she turns that corner and approaches you, I want you to run up to her, embrace her, kiss her full on the mouth and ask her to marry you._

_Never seeing her again ruins you._

_She was everything that made you feel at home._

_Why at this point in my life? Well, you see, this is the last time I see Hermione._

_I never told her anything; I just let her walk away with him._

_Just kiss her; kiss her and tell her you love her._

Suddenly a rush of emotions pushed him forward like a wind of encouragement. His footsteps echoed gently against the floor. His arms were pounding, his feet were flying, his pulse was raging like he was on fire. Before he could control the urges that were lashing at his insides, he was shouting her name repeatedly, over and over. There was no reply for a long time; just his voice crashing against the walls. But in between his yelling, while he was taking a breath, he heard a faint "what?" in the distance. 

With all the strength his body could muster he rushed forward and landed in front of Ron and Hermione; their hands still entwined.

Instead of allowing Ron the time to say something relatively mean, or Hermione to ask him why he was calling her, he literally ripped their hands apart, pulled Hermione forward and looked deep into her eyes. With no hesitation or acknowledgement to the protesting Ron in the background, he arched his neck, bent his head and connected their lips: kissing her and following through on one of his important tasks.

When he pulled away, she was flushed. A blush crept into every corner of Ron's face; he was now fuming with anger. But Draco pulled Hermione into an embrace and brought his lips down so they trembled across her cheek and landed next to her ear. Then, with the most intense, sincere voice he had ever used, he whispered a gentle "I love you."


End file.
